GATE: Thus The Imperium of Man Fought There

-M2. Earth. Japan. GInza-

Thousands of eager spectators amassed before the parameters housing the Gate, drawn by the news of the impending arrival of the supreme leader of the Imperium of Man, the Emperor of Mankind himself.

Anticipation hung heavy in the air, fueling the rising tension among the throngs of people. Conversations and murmurs buzzed incessantly, a cacophony of voices filling the space and leaving no corner untouched by the fervor.

Press and media outlets from across the globe converged to document this historic occasion, vying for prime positions closest to the perimeter. This momentous event promised to captivate the world's attention, much like the Gate's initial appearance had done.

From every corner of the world, televisions and internet streams broadcasted the unfolding developments, uniting humanity in collective anticipation. Borders and differences dissolved as people from all walks of life tuned in to witness this pivotal moment in history.

Amidst the sea of humanity, law enforcement struggled to maintain order amidst the swelling masses. Even the security personnel, both military and police, felt the weight of the moment, their nerves taut with the palpable tension lingering in the air.

As a melodious sound emanated from the Gate, a hush fell upon the entire world, each breath held in anticipation as the enchanting notes drew closer. In Japan, people held their breath, attuning their senses to capture every nuance of the majestic melody. Media outlets strained to convey the ethereal experience to their audiences.

After what felt like an eternity, the source of the haunting melody revealed itself. It was a tune woven from the depths of a trumpet, yet unlike any heard before. With each note, it seemed to evoke a myriad of emotions, effortlessly shifting to elevate the melody to new heights, intensifying the emotions it conveyed.

In an instant, the atmosphere shifted, the once jubilant anticipation giving way to an undercurrent of apprehension as the sounds of impending arrival heralded change.

As the source of the mesmerizing melody drew near, the anticipation reached its zenith. And then, they emerged—figures of indescribable discipline, marching proudly in their resplendent armor. Demigods in stature, they carried with them colossal banners that bore symbols of their might and authority.

With every step, their thunderous aura resonated, commanding reverence and awe from all who beheld them. The weight of their presence bore down upon the onlookers, compelling them to silence and even to kneel in homage.

At the forefront of the procession marched giants clad in imposing black armor, their weapons gleaming with an ominous aura. Beside them walked ordinary humans, though their bearing hinted at nobility, their presence adding to the spectacle of the scene.

Following the imposing black-armored legions and the dignified nobles, golden warriors emerged, their presence exuding an aura of majestic splendor. In stark contrast to the steel-clad soldiers preceding them, these golden figures commanded attention with their resplendent armor and regal bearing. Each step they took resonated with a sense of power and authority, their radiant forms casting an ethereal glow that seemed to illuminate the very air around them. As they marched in perfect formation, their golden hues glimmered with an otherworldly brilliance, marking them as beings of blessed stature amidst the mortal realm.

As the legion of silver knights emerged, standing proudly with their majestic aura, they cast a shadow over even the esteemed Golden Legion. Taller and more imposing, their demeanor bespoke a sense of confidence and assurance. Despite the obscured visages of their helmets, the citizens could discern the warmth of their smiles, a reassuring glimmer amidst the solemnity of the moment. The combined presence of these three transhuman soldiers—the golden, the silver, and the black—was enough to unsettle the Japanese populace, their composure slipping in the face of such overwhelming power.

Before the Japanese could fully comprehend the significance of the silver knights' arrival, a sudden shift in the atmosphere sent a shiver down their spines. All eyes turned towards the entrance of the Gate, where an unimaginable sight unfolded before them. A golden army emerged, their radiant presence eclipsing all who came before like the brilliance of the sun. Towering over the others, they marched with an otherworldly discipline, each step resonating with an aura of divine authority.

Among them, a figure stood bearing a staff larger than his own form, crowned with a burning golden Aquila—an emblem of unparalleled significance. And trailing behind him, the instrument of beautiful melody came into view, resembling a trumpet yet defying mortal comprehension with its ethereal existence.

These warriors, pure gold in form and purpose, completed the narrative laid out before the awestruck spectators. Human, steel, bronze, silver, and now, the culmination of all—gold. In their presence, the line between mortal and divine blurred, leaving the onlookers breathless in reverence and wonder.

As the grand procession drew to its conclusion, a profoundly majestic aura began to emanate from the Gate. Its presence was palpable, not just in Japan, but across the entirety of humanity on Earth. As the final figure emerged, this aura reached its zenith, surpassing all others and embodying the pinnacle of mankind's aspirations. With an indomitable presence, they stood before the assembled throngs, their brilliance illuminating the hearts of all who beheld them.

Their smile, gentle yet full of paternal warmth, seemed to encompass all of humanity in its embrace. But despite their benevolence, the radiance that emanated from them, akin to the sun itself, served as a stark reminder of their boundless power—power that could bring both destruction and salvation to mankind.

Clad in regal robes, adorned with a crown that spoke of sovereignty, and armored in a manner befitting a god, there was no mistaking their identity. They were the Emperor of Mankind, the undisputed ruler of the Imperium.

The transhuman aura that emanated from this divine being was overwhelming, its magnitude beyond mortal comprehension. Some among the onlookers, unable to withstand the sheer magnitude of their presence, succumbed to unconsciousness. Others wept uncontrollably, moved by the overwhelming emotions that washed over them. Yet most stood in silent awe, transfixed by the sight before them, their hearts filled with a myriad of emotions, all directed towards the Emperor.

As the Emperor of Mankind, ruler of millions of worlds in the galaxy, graced the assembled multitude with his genuine smile and undeniable charisma, hundreds knelt before him in reverence. Among them, Itami and Kurata bowed deeply, not out of blind loyalty or betrayal to their country, but out of a profound realization and love for the future of humanity.

They had borne witness to the true essence of the Imperium, understanding its potential as the pinnacle of civilization. For Itami, every moment of his life flashed before his eyes—the pain of losing his family, the weight of his failures, the scars left by his abusive father, and the descent into madness of his mother—all due to irrationality and selfishness.

"Please, Your Majesty," Itami pleaded, his voice filled with earnest sincerity. "Bring your light to this misserable world."

_________________________________________________________

As Motoi's breath caught in his throat at the sight of the Emperor's grandeur, he couldn't help but feel the weight of the moment. Though he had only ever seen His Majesty on screen and read descriptions in Itami's reports, the magnitude of the Emperor's aura was undeniable. Witnessing the full extent of his majesty left Motoi awestruck.

"So that's the Emperor of Mankind," he murmured to himself, the words barely audible even to his own ears. Glancing beside him, he caught sight of Dirrel, the President of the United States, experiencing a nervous attack. Despite his visible anxiety, Motoi could sense a glimmer of pride in Dirrel's eyes—the pride of a superpower now acknowledging a new force on the world stage.

Steeliness filled Motoi's resolve. It was time for Japan to assert its independence and break free from the shackles of its vassal status to the United States.

As he entertained these thoughts, Motoi couldn't help but chuckle dryly. The irony of Japan being captivated by the glory of its former enemy was not lost on him. But with the emergence of the multipolar world under the Imperium's leadership, everything was changing.

"I believe it's time for us to prepare, President Dirrel," Motoi spoke in a diplomatic tone, masking the smirk that threatened to betray his true feelings.

Dirrel seemed to shake himself out of his stupor, quickly regaining his composure. "Yes, you're right," he responded, though Motoi could sense the tension beneath the President's facade.

Motoi smiled back, his outward expression belying the satisfaction he felt within. Change was on the horizon, and Japan was ready to seize its place in this new world order.

______________________________________________________

As the Emperor and his honored guards arrived at the Diet Building, the vast majority of the guards positioned themselves around the perimeter while the Emperor, accompanied by his chosen companions, prepared to enter the building. The sheer size of the transhuman soldiers presented a logistical challenge for entry, but with a mere touch of psychic power, the Emperor and his closest servants seamlessly adjusted their stature to match that of the Solar Guardian, leaving onlookers astounded by the feat.

Entering the room, the Emperor was flanked by four individuals representing various tiers of his hierarchy. Despite their smaller size, their imposing aura remained palpable, leaving an indelible impression on all present.

The room was filled with leaders from across the globe, and Anathema couldn't help but smile, a subtle gesture noticed only by his Custodes, particularly his second, Constantine Valdor. Crafted from the very essence of the Emperor's soul, Valdor possessed an unparalleled insight into his master's emotions. Though the sentiment of happiness was alien to him, Valdor couldn't help but feel a sense of gladness at his master's apparent contentment.

As the Emperor's gaze met Valdor's, a moment of silent communication passed between them. Valdor sensed a genuine warmth and care emanating from his master, a paternal affection that both comforted and unsettled him.

+Feeling odd, my friend?+ the Emperor's telepathic voice echoed in Valdor's mind.

+If I'm being honest, my king, I've never witnessed you with such expression and sentiment before,+ Valdor responded truthfully.

+Something new for you to learn, my friend. For this is a moment of change not only for our younger cousins, but for us as well,+ the Emperor replied, his smile graceful yet enigmatic.

Valdor could only analyze his master's newfound behavior, but beneath his stoic exterior, he couldn't help but smile. It was time for the meeting to commence.

"Greetings, Emperor of Mankind. I am Jack Ross, Secretary General of the UN, for this period. We are here to fulfill your invitation to meet with us. I hope we can provide you with a pleasant stay," Jack said with a warm smile.

"Earth is home to all humans, Secretary General. Regardless of age, it will serve as sanctuary to those who seek it. That is sufficient for me," the Emperor replied, his voice measured and serene. "It is I who must offer apologies. For various reasons, I found it necessary to expedite our meeting."

The Secretary General nodded understandingly. "Very well, Your Majesty. Now, may we proceed to the reason behind your visit?"

Anathema smiled knowingly, fully aware that the proceedings were being recorded and broadcasted worldwide. Though initially reluctant to rely on such methods to sway the population of Old Earth, he could feel the collective faith of his chosen spreading, like a beacon of hope illuminating the horizon. They trusted him, regardless of the path he chose to take.

"I am here on behalf of the Imperium of Man, as well as all of humanity. I come to propose an open bilateral connection with every nation on Earth through a single treaty," the Emperor's voice resounded, echoing through the vastness of space and time. Yet, there was an undeniable peculiarity in the way he spoke, leaving every human in the world feeling a sense of unease.

The Emperor spoke in their native language, each word identical to their mother tongue. From the oldest among them, who recognized it as their original dialect, to the youngest, who sensed the familiarity in modern vocabulary, there was a collective realization that transcended linguistic boundaries.

Panic rippled through the room as diplomats scrambled to comprehend the significance of what had just transpired.

"Perhaps, before we proceed with the treaty, allow me to formally introduce the Imperium of Man and provide insight into our history, in order to solidify our understanding," the Emperor proposed, his words serving to ease the tension in the room.

"That would be most appreciated, Your Majesty," the Secretary-General replied slowly, his gaze fixed on the Emperor, trying to discern the extraordinary nature of his communication.

Beneath his helmet, Valdor scoffed quietly. He couldn't help but compare the present situation to the usual debates that occurred in the Sanctum Imperial. While the High Lords often eventually reached agreements, their discussions were typically heated, especially when dealing with critical matters. But here, in this room, there was a sense of tranquility that bordered on surreal. However, a quick glance around the room revealed who would inevitably disrupt the peace.

"Very well. I shall begin. Garviel, if you may," the Emperor addressed the Astartes standing beside him.

Garviel nodded in acknowledgment, stepping forward. As he did, a solemn hymn filled the room, resonating with a sense of reverence. With a subtle psychic command, a small silver Omniphage materialized from his palm, gracefully descending to the floor. With lightning speed, the Omniphages began to arrange themselves, forming a small altar of silver adorned with the Aquila symbol on top.

The unexpected display left the entire assembly in awe, but before any could react, the Emperor raised his hand, quelling any apprehension that may have arisen.

"There is no need to worry. This will aid in your understanding," he reassured them softly, his smile imbued with warmth and reassurance as he also reached out to touch their souls, instilling a sense of calmness that washed over the gathered diplomats and leaders instantaneously.

As the events unfolded, the entire world watched in awe, stunned to their core by the marvel of nanoengineering. Scientists around the globe found themselves struggling to believe their own eyes. Despite dedicating countless hours and resources to advancing nanotechnology, progress had been slow, hindered by the gap between theory and practical application.

Yet, in that moment, they bore witness to the true potential of nanotechnology.

They deducted that the nanobots had consumed various materials, breaking them down to the molecular level before reassembling them with unparalleled precision to construct the altar. It was a feat that defied comprehension, showcasing the immense power and capability of this revolutionary technology.

Meanwhile, back in the meeting room, the completed altar stood as a testament to this technological prowess, radiating with an undeniable artistic value. Artisans from every corner of the world would pay anything to witness such a masterpiece firsthand. Its gothic architecture, adorned with intricate golden circuit patterns, seemed to pulsate with life, as if imbued with a consciousness of its own.

"May we inquire the purpose of this... apparatus, Your Majesty?" Ross's voice echoed in the chamber, his gaze unwavering from the arcane construct.

"This construct shall serve as a conduit for a deeper understanding of our dominion." With a mere thought, a ripple of psychic energy from the Emperor activated the device.

The circuits ignited with an ethereal glow, suffusing the chamber with their otherworldly luminescence. Suddenly, a grand holovid materialized before them, its vivid colors dancing in the air, displaying the majestic golden Aquila, the revered emblem of the Imperium.

Valdor observed the unfolding scene in solemn silence. He felt the weight of significance in the air, knowing the true nature of this so-called holovid apparatus. This was no mere device for the projection of images; it was a psychic amplifier, a beacon of Anathematic power.

It was engineered to forge a direct connection, not with the mere psychic ether, but with the very essence of humanity itself. Regardless of one's birthplace or lineage within the vast expanse of the human dominion, this device would reach out and link directly to their soul, a thread connecting them to the very heart of the humanity's spirit.

"Behold the segmentums, known as Segmentae Majoris," the Emperor's voice resonated with authority as the holovids shifted, revealing the sprawling map of the galaxy divided into five distinct segmentums. "These vast galactic structures delineate the Imperium's dominion, each playing a crucial role in our grand design."

As the Emperor spoke, the holovids depicted each segmentum in vivid detail, accompanied by his explanation. The Segmentum Solar, a bastion of industry and politics, stood as the Imperium's beating heart. The Segmentum Obscurus emerged as a fortress of military might, while the Segmentum Tempestus boasted towering ecumenopolises and Manufactorum Worlds rivaling even the Solar Segmentum. The Segmentum Pacificus, with its focus on megastructure projects, provided invaluable resources, while Ultima Segmentum sprawled as the largest and most populous, housing the bulk of expansion efforts.

The Anathematic power surged through the room, casting an undeniable weight upon all present. The sheer magnitude of the Imperium's reach and power pressed upon their minds, conjuring pale images and visions of unimaginable scale.

Systems teeming with colossal ships, structures dwarfing planets, and fleets spanning the void filled their consciousness. Though the leaders sensed the strangeness of the moment, they remained composed, for such revelations were anticipated in the halls of the Imperium.

"What manner of visions are these?" Ross murmured, his voice barely audible amidst the collective awe.

Before the Secretary General could finish, the Emperor raised his hand, intensifying the glow of the holovid device. Every mortal on the planet felt the surge of power coursing through the room, binding them in a shared experience.

"The Imperium of Man spans a galaxy, encompassing over five million worlds," the Emperor declared, his voice commanding attention. The holovids shifted once more, unveiling the diverse classifications of Imperial planets.

From orbit, the civilized worlds presented a familiar facade akin to Earth itself. Yet, as one descended into their depths, a stark dichotomy emerged. The ecumenopolis, a land veiled in steel, boasted dozens of towering arcologies rising like sentinels of progress. Their pristine white surfaces, reminiscent of marble, were adorned with intricate golden embellishments, casting an aura of opulence that stretched to the farthest reaches of the horizon. Here lay the heart of civilization, a beacon of wealth and advancement.

In stark contrast, the Manufactorum world stood as a testament to industry's relentless march. Entire continents had been transformed into colossal factories, their landscapes dominated by the ceaseless churn of machinery. Gigantic foundries belched forth billowing clouds of smoke, while rivers of molten metal flowed like veins through the planet's surface. Within these sprawling complexes, machines of incomprehensible complexity toiled tirelessly, their purpose shrouded in mystery, their creation beyond the grasp of mortal understanding.

Yet, this utopian existence was not merely a product of chance but the result of unwavering loyalty to the Imperium. Within the intricate web of society, loyal citizens found themselves embraced by a system so complex, it seemed to anticipate their every need. Towering arcologies, fashioned from crystal and gleaming with opulence, stood as monuments to the prosperity woven into the fabric of their lives. Amidst this splendor, nature flourished, weaving a tapestry of beauty around them, a testament to the harmonious coexistence between civilization and the natural world.

In the Ecumenopolis, wealth and poverty held little sway, for abundance reigned supreme. Within its bustling confines, manufacturing arcologies, along with other architectural marvels, churned ceaselessly in a symphony of innovation, creation, and consumption. As the populace observed, artificial suns blazed with radiant energy, their brilliance harnessed as the lifeblood of the Ecumenopolis. Wondrous technologies hummed with purpose, sustaining the intricate complexities of the planet's existence.

Within the sprawling expanse of the Manufactorum World, impossibility ceased to hold sway, giving rise to a realm beyond comprehension. Here, the boundaries of reality blurred, and the inconceivable became commonplace. Witnessing the unfolding spectacle, observers beheld a symphony of arcane processes, where reality itself seemed to bend to the will of its inhabitants.

They watched in awe as celestial bodies were consumed and deconstructed, their essence harnessed as a wellspring of raw material. Through processes both esoteric and enigmatic, these resources were transformed into intricate patterns of machinery, their purpose veiled in layers of mystery. Black holes, once considered the epitome of cosmic mystery, were relegated to mere components within vast chambers, their true function shrouded in the shadows of uncertainty.

In this crucible of innovation, the laws of physics yielded to the whims of imagination, giving rise to technologies so advanced they defied comprehension. Here, on the Manufactorum World, the impossible found refuge, and the boundaries of possibility were pushed ever further into the unknown.

As the observers returned to the tangible realm, their minds still reeling from the surreal experience, Ross couldn't help but voice the question that lingered in the air like an unresolved chord.

"What... What was that?" His words echoed with uncertainty, reflecting the collective bewilderment of those present.

"We demand an answer, Emperor of Mankind," Dirrel interjected, his tone brimming with urgency, though his demand elicited a subtle amusement from the Imperials.

"I think I won the bet," Garviel remarked quietly beneath his helmet, a hint of satisfaction evident in his voice.

"It would be my Anathematic energy, President Dirrel," the Emperor responded with characteristic composure, calm as ever be.

"Anathematic energy?" Dirrel echoed, his confusion palpable.

"To put it simply, this is my own energy that has carved a domain within the Warp," the Emperor elaborated, his tone measured yet informative.

"May we know what the Warp is, Your Majesty?" Ross interjected, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from the brewing tension, his voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.

As Ross posed the question, a palpable shift rippled through the room, plunging the atmosphere into an icy silence. The leaders of Old Earth felt the temperature drop, a chill settling over them as tension mounted to unprecedented levels.

In response, the Emperor took a deliberate step forward, his movement seemingly mundane yet carrying a weight that transcended the physical realm. It was a gesture laden with significance, one that commanded attention and respect.

"In many tongues, it is known by various names: the Warp, the Immaterium, Ether, the Sea of Souls, the Great Beyond," the Emperor began, his voice resonating with a solemn authority that brooked no argument. "But regardless of its designation, it is a realm that exists beyond the confines of our material universe. Within its boundless expanse, time and space hold no sway, rendering them as mere abstract concepts."

With a sweeping motion of his hand, the Emperor invoked a profound transformation. In an instant, the landscape before them underwent a dramatic metamorphosis, revealing glimpses of the incomprehensible realm known as the Warp.

As the spectators beheld the room's transformation into a purplish realm emitting unfathomable energy, the entire world watched in astonishment as the scene shifted dramatically, revealing a nightmarish realm beyond imagination.

"This is the Warp," the Emperor's voice reverberated with authority, cutting through the eerie silence that enveloped the room. "Thanks to this realm, humanity has achieved technological heights never before witnessed in history, and our journey of advancement continues at a pace unparalleled in the annals of time."

With the Emperor's explanation, a realization dawned upon the spectators: the marvels of technology they had witnessed were merely the beginning of the Imperium's mastery over the unknown. There existed realms of knowledge and innovation beyond their current comprehension, waiting to be explored and harnessed for the betterment of mankind.

With newfound awe and understanding, the spectators recognized the limitless potential that lay before them, a testament to humanity's resilience and ingenuity in the face of adversity. The revelation filled them with a sense of anticipation and excitement for the boundless possibilities that awaited in the uncharted territories of the Warp.

"In our reality, amidst the splendor of our utopic domains, humanity faces a world fraught with madness," the Emperor continued, his tone grave and solemn. "We are besieged on all sides by enemies numbering beyond count, each embodying unspeakable cruelty and relentless hostility."

With his words, a sense of impending doom settled upon the room, as if the very air crackled with the tension of imminent conflict. The Emperor's gaze pierced through the veil of reality, his presence both inhuman and awe-inspiring, embodying the dual nature of creator and destroyer.

"We are surrounded, both in the material universe and the immaterial, by relentless enemies that seek our downfall," the Emperor declared, his voice resonating with a steely resolve.

Images of horror and dread materialized before the spectators' eyes, each representing a facet of the Imperium's enemies.

"They are the aliens," the Emperor's voice resonated with a solemn gravity as images of horrifying monstrosities materialized before the spectators. These abominable beings, with their unparalleled cruelty, mocked humanity's vulnerability in the vast and uncaring universe. They enslaved and purged humanity at will, wielding eldritch mechanisms of destruction with impunity.

"The heretics," the Emperor continued, his tone laced with disdain as hordes of mutated humans appeared before the onlookers. These wretched souls had forsaken their humanity, selling their very souls in exchange for power to sow chaos and carnage upon the lands of the sane. They reveled in massacres and butchery, sacrificing innocents to appease their dark masters.

"And last but not least, the daemons and their masters," the Emperor's voice grew solemn, almost mournful, as visions of grotesque displays filled the room. Four armies of nightmare incarnate, existing only in the darkest recesses of the mind.

The red daemons of Khorne, their lust for blood unquenchable, left a trail of carnage in their wake, claiming skulls and piles of bodies in the name of their merciless god.

The blue daemons of Tzeentch, fueled by inscrutable desires, twisted reality itself, transforming everything into mutated flesh hungering for innocent blood with an insatiable appetite.

The green daemons of Nurgle, embodiments of decay and pestilence, spread plagues across reality, corrupting the once-perfect human form into monstrous abominations, a sick parody of creation itself.

And lastly, the pink daemons of Slaanesh, their abhorrent beauty proclaimed as the pinnacle of perfection, twisted and corrupted all who dared oppose them, ensnaring their victims in a web of hedonistic desires.

"It is my duty to protect the sane, to safeguard the delicate balance of existence through the Imperium of Man," the Emperor proclaimed, his voice resonating with resolve. "We are the guardians of the scales, the defenders of humanity against the encroaching darkness that threatens to consume us all."